The gene-looms and their keepers had decayed and fallen from use and power. Luna had taken up a new role as base for the fleet and forces that watched over Terra. Here the Silent Sisterhood had made its fortress, the Assassin clades their training temples, and the Knights Errant and Chosen of the Sigillite their unnamed base of operations. But the true strength of Luna lay in the defences that spiralled out from the Ring in overlapping arcs. Its guns could target anything that moved into Terra’s orbit. Before the war, it had the firepower to deal with any invasion that might reach the Throneworld. Five years of Rogal Dorn’s care had added to that strength many times over. Here, moving amongst the defences, were ships of the Jovian fleets, the Imperial Fists, the Blood Angels, the Saturnine flotillas and the steelclads of Neptune.

On the other side of Terra lay the Phalanx, holding orbit above the world like a golden shadow to Luna’s silver. A school of lesser ships clustered around the great fortress, glimmering like coins cast into a sunbeam.

Abaddon had known what was waiting for him. The data supplied to Horus by the XX Legion had told him much, and distant optical analysis had supplied the rest. His was an armada of the finest ships under Horus’ control, crewed and filled by the greatest of the XVI Legion, but still it would not be enough to break through Luna and take the skies of Terra. Not enough by far. That would take a force many times greater than that which now rode down into the guns of Luna.

This strike, deep within the circle of the Solar System, was a spear thrust against a cliff. If it struck home, it would shatter. It was a death mission, a task that could bring glory only to fanatics like Layak who craved martyrdom. Yet here he stood, listening to the War Oath shiver as it plunged down into the fire.

‘Do you trust me, my son?’ Horus had said when he had given Abaddon command of the attack.

‘Of course, sire,’ he had replied and bowed his head. It had been difficult even for him to stand in his father’s presence. Light folded into shadow around the Warmaster, and voices whispered in the silence.

‘You are my truest son, Abaddon, more like me than perhaps any other. I have never failed, and I will not now.’ Horus’ hand touched Abaddon’s shoulder. ‘You understand how to strike this blow, I know. You know what is needed and why. This alone I trust to you. And you will not fail me, my son.’